Little Death - You Me At Six
by painted-on-silence
Summary: I wouldn't go as far as to say that my life has been easy but it's... tolerable. I have my friends and my totally awesome sense of humour as company but romance has always presented a problem for me. Until a stupidly attactive blonde haired broken boy shows me how. Dan Flint/OC
1. Chapter 1 - Take Off Your Colours

_**Chapter One – Take off Your Colours**_

_'Those eyes you bought have gone to my head'_

You want to know what I really hate?

Alarms.

You want to know what I hate more than that?

Alarms on a Monday morning.

Seriously, as if getting up wasn't painful enough.

_'Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man: no time to talk.'_

'What a retro song,' I thought to myself, humming along half asleep.

I turned my head to look at the clock on my bedside table.

7.45.

I groaned against my pillow before dragging my sorry ass out of bed for school. I actually sort of hated sixth form; the own clothes situation was more of a hindrance than I'd originally thought. The daily rummage-to-find-something-decent-and-not-wrinkled in my wardrobe was becoming increasingly annoying.

"Daisy!" my roommate, Abigail, called from downstairs, "you want some bacon?"

"Do you need to ask?!" I shouted back. Her distant laughter echoed up the stairs.

I loved Abi. She'd been one of my best friends since primary school when she shoved Melanie Andrews' face into the sandpit for calling me a 'pathetic little mong-chode.' Now I don't know where she'd got the colourful vocabulary from but hey, without it, our friendship would have never blossomed. So thanks Melanie Andrews. You're still a she-devil though.

Eventually, after diving deep into the clothing-version of Mauna Kea (the actual tallest mountain on earth, I'll have you know) I pulled out a pair of dark acid-washed skinny jeans and a band tee that didn't have a stain on it – hazaar.

I brushed my rats nest of a hair until the curls looked reasonably presentable, dabbed a bit of mascara on – you never know, I might want to pull today *cue seductive pose* - yanked on my converse and manoeuvred my way out of my bedroom door; it's quite a challenge, let me tell you.

The sweet, succulent scent of simmering bacon caught my nostrils, calling its siren song (or… scent) to it.

My feet wandered to the kitchen of their own accord and took me to a seat on the little island in the middle of the room. Abi was stood at the cooker, wearing a onesie and singing along under her breath to a little tinny radio that was blaring some indie record I wasn't familiar with.

'Mmmm, bacon,' I mumbled and Abi laughed again, before putting enough bacon on my plate to feed 5000; she truly was Jesus reincarnated. She left to get ready, though personally I think she should go in her onesie.

After I'd all but licked my plate clean of anything edible, I retreated back upstairs to organise my books and stuff. I swear, they've given me the heaviest books ever and they know my upper body strength is like -849329282 away from average.

Checking my timetable, I sighed.

Double English lit, Physics, P.E, Free, followed by a nice helping of Psychology.

I grabbed my trusty iPod and phone from the table, adjusted my backpack and left, shoving my ear-buds as I went. I took my time selecting a song as Abi and I headed for her beaten Ford, not wanting it to be too depressing for such a bad day, or too happy because then the mood would be ruined when we approach the priso- oh I mean school.

After much internal deliberation in which I threatened to stab myself in the placenta multiple times, I pressed play.

Thank god for bacon and music, on days like today.

We pulled up to school in Abi's 'Swag mobile', leaving all those little dweeb walkers in our dust – although I can't judge as I used to be one. But not any more suckers, hahahaha!

Strolling out of the car like total bosses, we headed up to our usual haunt; by the bike shed all the way at the top of the school. Abi flaunted her impossibly long legs walking up the impossibly steep steps, her legs looking even more impossibly long in her black flowery skirt and indie tee combo, and her blonde hair was curled to perfection. She looked like a walking tumblr girl. Oh, she was out to turn heads today. But there was only one in particular she cared about. And that was Josh.

Josh Franceschi was the hottest boy to roam these halls, ever if the mongaloids in the other year are anything to go by. With the tousled quiff and captain-of-the-football-team status, not to mention the fact that his singing voice was the mixture of a mermaid and Jesus, he was the 'bachelor' of the school. He also happened to be my best friend.

And it was for that reason, that I could scream like a banshee and attack-hug him as soon as I saw him like he'd been in Africa for 13 years and we'd only just been reunited, and it not be seen as weird. Much.

He laughed and enveloped me in a cocoon of man smell.

"Hello, my special moonbeam," he said to me with a nerdy accent. "Salutations, my sundrop of Assisi," I replied.

Yeah.

We were pretty weird.

I lost that thing called self-consciousness many years ago.

Once, a Uniform (what we call the lower years) asked if we were going out. I pretty much laughed in their face. Now, don't get me wrong, Josh is an extremely attractive boy, but the thought of us together… it's so just wrong. Like incest. I think of him as my actual blood brother.

He let me go as he embraced Abi in a similar, if not so weird, fashion. I made my rounds to the other boys, cracking jokes, playfully telling them (mainly Max) that no, they could not touch my boob and no, there was still nothing I would do for 50p and other such nonsensical things.

After greetings and the usual morning flanter (flirty banter) had been exchanged, I noticed a lone figure stood up against the wall, a few metres away from our group. A very fit figure.

His posture was aggressively poor; a cocky yet sexy look was set on his face as his foot tapped to the beat of unheard music. The black polo shirt and low slung jeans hugged his lean frame in all the right places and a grey beanie donned his blonde head. When I saw his arms, I almost drooled; tattoos were patterned along both of them and boy, were they sexy. Everything about him just screamed 'I don't give a fuck, shag me now.' And I'll be damned if I didn't want to.

His attractiveness was a lot different to Josh's attractiveness – Josh was the kind of boy you brought home to your mother and he would say please and thank you and excuse me, the whole shebang, he may even offer to help wash the dishes after. No, this boy was the kind that your mom would ground you for even considering.

My mom would so ground me.

I turned, trying to find Josh to ask him about this mystery boy, because Josh was a sucker for gossip – he knew everything about everyone. I looked back to him as I pulled Josh from the rabble that was our group, and saw him already staring at me.

His eyes burned into mine with an intensity that knocked me out of balance and out of breath. They were an ethereal electric blue, deep like the ocean, yet holding some sort of fire to them. They were glorious.

Rather abruptly, I was wrenched from my little staring competition by Josh clicking his fingers in my face. Annoyed, I turned toward Josh, giving him my best death glare to which he recoiled, knowing the true extent of my anger. Not a pretty sight.

When I looked back to the boy, I saw him smirking at me, his eyebrow raised as if to say 'I won.'

I turned back away.

I hated losing.

Even more than early Monday morning alarms.

"Who is that, over there, leaning on the wall?" I asked Josh.

"What? That one leaning against the wall? Beanie? Baggie jeans? Looking like a threat to society? Well, Funny you should mention that, Big D," he said, tossing his arm carelessly over my shoulder, "That charming-looking young gentleman is my new neighbour, Daniel Flint. My mom said I should keep an eye out for him because he's like adopted or fostered or his parents got a divorce or something, she doesn't know which for sure yet. She told me she'll keep me informed."

I shook my head at the eccentricity of his mom. What a character.

There was something about him though, something that pulled me to him but they weren't that positive; it was a I-want-to-give-you-a-massive-hug-and-say-I'm-sorry kind of pull. I slapped myself internally for pitying him because pity was a horrible selfish emotion, basically saying you acknowledge someone's problem but not actually doing anything to resolve anything. It raised you above the other person, giving you unwanted permission to pat them on the head and tell them it was ok when the person knew that it wouldn't be and think that you didn't really care.

I told myself I could have one more glance but when I looked for him, he was already gone.

My thoughts wandered all day to Daniel Flint, and his blue eyes and his sexy smirk and his tapping foot.

Abi noticed my distraction and constantly had to kick me to wake me up in lessons. She suspected 'boy' as soon as she'd seen my face in form and she had my back – pounds chest. Homies 4 lyfe. Peace.

At lunch, Josh invited Daniel over to our table in the canteen– they'd just had History together and they got on like a house on fire.

J-Man took a seat between me and Max, leaving the only free seat opposite me. Daniel had a sort of wary confidence as he sat, eyes locked on mine. I blushed furiously.

He smirked.

"Peasants, this is Dan. Dan, this is-" pointing to us each in turn, "Max, Matt, Chris, Abi and Daisy."

Dan said hi to everyone, while pointedly fixing his eyes on me. Max nudged me subtly and squealed like a pre-pubescent girl in my ear.

I tried to avoid his eyes for the rest of lunch, choosing instead to fool around with Josh, telling cheesy jokes, and giving Max a lovely present of a dead arm when he kept saying 'Giggity' after everything I said. I couldn't resist it in the end though.

He was talking to Matt and Chris animatedly about a band – the Pigeon Detectives, I think – saying how they should release a new album and do some more shows. The passion about music that rung clear and genuine in every note turned me onto him even more. Seriously.

Matt said something I couldn't hear that made him laugh.

I swear, I almost creamed right there.

His laugh is the single most beautiful sound in the world. It lilted and rose yet was still very masculine and deep and sexy; it went straight to my loins.

Cue melting into my chair.

Max announced that he was thirsty and vacated his seat next to me to go get a drink. He went the long way, and stopped by Dan.

Bending down, he whispered something in his ear, straightened up and left.

I frowned but shook it off; it was probably something in boy-language – it's something that nobody has been able to decipher fully yet.

I leaned across Josh to say something to Abi and somebody cleared their throat in the seat next to me.

Dan's amorous blue eyes burned into mine.

And what did I do?

Jump.

Almost into Josh's lap. Smooth, Daisy.

"Woah, Dais, I know I'm attractive but keep it in your pants," Josh chuckled.

"You wish I wanted you baby," I replied snarkily.

I turned back to Dan, who was smiling so widely I lost the ability of speech. Holy fuck. Not even my ex, Scott, could turn me on with just a look.

"Sorry Dan, Josh is the biggest man-slut ever," I said breathily.

He laughed and I groaned internally. He had to stop doing that.

"It's ok Daisy," he chuckled, "I know."

I turned on the flirt charm to maximum but I tried to make it subtle. Judging from the looks of my friends, it sort of failed. Dan didn't seem to notice though so that's always a plus.

I discovered some interesting things; his favourite band was All Time Low or The Killers but he liked pretty much all genres of music. He supported Arsenal (to which I gagged in horror.) He'd just moved here with his mom. He preferred Fosters to Guinness. Just stupid little stuff like that. The punk appearance was well off; he was well mannered, funny…

Speaking to him was the happiest I'd been in a long while.

It just begged to be ruined.

And that's exactly what happened.


	2. Chapter 2 - Crash

_**Chapter 2 – Crash**_

_'Just crash, fall down, I'll wrap my arms around you now'_

"Hi there, Daisy-pie."

I'm not a bad person. Granted, I'm no saint but I'm 96.7% certain I won't go to hell. But come on, God. Even you have to admit that making that person (if they even are classified as a human) destroy the only happy thing that's happened to me all year is cruel. And it's October now. Seriously. That is some whack shit yo.

The playful atmosphere that had encompassed our group shattered; his very presence was a sledgehammer to all joy.

"Hi Scott," I said, refusing to let him see my mounting panic. My ex loomed above me, a maliciously fiery look in his eyes. The Strumpet army a little way behind him tittered.

"Hey look guys, it's twat face. What do you want twat face? Another broken nose?" Josh mocked with a sarcastic smile, while scooting protectively closer to me. The other boys, and Abi, followed suit, surrounding me.

Dan just looked between Scott and me, eyes narrowed, a frown marring his face.

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to say hi." The way he said it made it obvious that he wasn't over here for a friendly greeting. He knew exactly what he was doing; I hated him even more for it.

Scott and I didn't break up on the best of terms –cough-understatement of the century-cough. He was the foulest, most chauvinistic man-pig to ever walk the face of the planet and I don't know why I was ever interested in his stupid jerk face.

He treated me like a piece of his shitty property the whole time I went out with him; he kept trying to keep me away from the boys – Josh in particular – but I refused. No one, and I mean no one, comes between me and my man-slut ~sassy finger snap~. At one point, he actually came and dragged me away from them which resulted in Josh punching him in the face so he left alone and with a broken nose. Ah, got to love violence. And then, to top off the cherry cake of cunt-ness, he cheated.

He cheated.

Then had the balls to claim it was an accident. (What, a girl just happened to trip and impale herself onto your cock, while your and her clothes were accidently off?)

There is no such thing as accidental infidelity.

To make the situation – which already seems pretty bad – even worse, he did it on my birthday. What kind of twat-face would do that?! I mean, it's just plain harsh ok. I walked in to his bedroom to find him starkers with a skank on his pathetic excuse for a penis. Let's just say, I'm scarred mentally from that experience.

I must have mutilated puppies in a past life or something because my life went so downhill since that night… I literally hit rock bottom… and there is no bus service like there was in Spongebob either.

Anyway.

He'd had a string of girls since then but it always seemed to come back to me; always texting and calling to the point where I had to block his number, he followed me to my old home once and stood outside my house smiling to himself. I got so scared I called Josh but by the time he arrived, Stalker-Scott had vanished – probably into some shrubbery somewhere. From that point on, Josh had walked me to my house every night. Just to be safe.

"Well, you've said your hello. Now let me make my greeting to you clear. Fuck off." I shooed him off, adrenaline pumping.

He didn't like that one bit. The smile stayed on his face but his eyes, his evil muddy-brown eyes, they held threats of violence. All of a sudden, he turned to Dan.

"Be careful with this one – Dan is it? – she'll drop you like that," he clicked his fingers and I flinched, "I mean, who knows what kind of diseases she's got after she shagged–"

He didn't get to finish.

Josh knocked him down with a punch and Max, Chris, Matt and Dan all stood up, looking like some indie teen A-Team. Dan looked like an avenging angel in a grey beanie. He was the epitome of gorgeous. Swoon.

Scott's cocky look had all but vanished as he sat up, gingerly touching his face. He was flocked with squeals of outrage from the Slag Squad, hysterically asking if he was ok. Scott flashed them an award-winning smile and they calmed. Wow. I was officially embarrassed to be a girl.

Josh turned to me, inspecting me for cracks as if I was a porcelain doll. I slapped his hands away, affronted. I was a strong independent woman; I didn't cry or faint or call for help at the first signs of danger. I did, however, want to get away from all the curious eyes. Josh saw this and tilted his head slightly, asking. I nodded minutely.

"Come on guys, let us leave these peasants for we far out rank them. Besides, I need to flaunt my calves."

He headed towards the canteen door, doing a ridiculous diva strut that made everyone laugh, except Scott and Slut co.

In fact, Scott called after us, "Watch your back Dan. You never know where the knife is going to come from."

I froze. Oh no. Why? Why would he dredge my name through the mud like that? I didn't mean to. Dan would never trust me if he knew the truth. No one except Abi and Josh knew what I did. And I honest to god liked him.

Everything went slow motion for a minute.

Dan turned on the spot, looked down at Scott and said, "I'm a good ninja. Thanks though, Scott."

The day dragged like a caveman's penis across the dusty cave floor. Unneeded problems popped up everywhere; I'd left my book in my locker, I'd left my homework at home, the teacher chose today of all days to pick on me. I just gave her a look that said, 'look bitch, I've had a really bad day, although the boy I like basically denounced my ex as a pathetic shit-stirrer. But still. It's not been a good day.' And when that didn't work, I stood up and said, "Because Jesus, that's why." The class had burst out in hysterics but Miss looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. Needless to say, I got more homework than anyone else.

After school when I met up with everyone, they walked on fucking egg shells around me, as though it was a sin to mention the canteen catastrophe. I got sick of it real quick.

Max: Knock, knock

Me: (sigh) Who's there?

Max: Daisy

Me: (über sigh) Daisy who?

Max: Daisy me rollin', dey hatin'

Me: (with face like thunder) Daisy me kicking your ass

Abi and Josh were being fussy parents, patting my head and fiddling with my hair and holding my bag for me. As if my bag was the cause of all my problems.

I wasn't a girly girl. People knew that. I didn't expect to meet my prince charming and ride off in the sunset upon a white steed (although I did dream about it – dreams aren't reality and I believed firmly in reality.) Sure, my supposed 'Prince Charming' turned out to be a life-ruining, faith-in-humanity-destroying ass clown but I've already seen the fence and climbed over that fact. Fairy tales didn't exist. Case closed. Hatchet buried. End of story.

The only person who wasn't going to get a Pissed-off-Daisy-Special was Dan. And not just because he was a sexy bastard who I happened to quite like. No. It was because he stayed quiet. No stupid, unfunny jokes that avoided anything 'sensitive'. No pats on the heads or hugs to make sure that I wasn't going to drop down dead of heart-break or anything. Nope. I appreciated that.

When it came to Abi and my departure from our voluntary torture chamber, I gave everyone a quick hug until I was stood almost awkwardly in front of Dan.

I rubbed my arm, wondering what it would be like to hug him.

"Bye Dan. Sorry about lunch. I'll see you tomorrow."

I turned and made to leave but as I did, someone cleared their throat. I slowly twisted back around and saw something that made my day oh so much**better**. It was like Heaven's doors had opened for me. I could hear Elvis and Freddie Mercury and several hundred choir members singing 'Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.' And it was like the sun had come out in winter in England. A miracle.

Dan Flint was stood with his arms wide open, head cocked to the side with a sly smile gracing his lips.

I almost screamed with pure happiness as I tried to subtly race into his arms. From the chuckles around us, it was another unsuccessful attempt. Ok guys, I understand that subtlety isn't my strong point. But you would want to run into his arms too.

He smelled deftly of aftershave and boy and heaven and unadulterated joy and oh my gosh I just felt like staying in his arms forever. In his arms, the stress and panic of the day just melted off my shoulders and I felt a security that I felt nowhere else. It was paradise. I never wanted to leave but too soon it was over and I was stepping back from him.

Suddenly, the world was cold and I felt vulnerable, like my armour had been stripped from my back. I looked with wide eyes at Dan. He gave me a small smile and blinked at me, seeing my fragility, acknowledging it and locking it away, like he somehow understood that I didn't want the others seeing me like this. I closed my eyes for a millisecond, wondering how he'd managed to do that. I hadn't known him a day yet he'd managed to get under my skin and somehow know me better than my best friends.

I took a deep breath and walked back to Abi, plastering that too-familiar smile on my face.

We got in the car but before I closed the door, I heard Josh say, "Dude. Why do you look like you want to make owl noises?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**I hope you enjoyed that dansy moment there; there's plenty to come in the future. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and any requests are welcomed with open arms**

** ~ painted-on-silence**


	3. Chapter 3 - Liquid Confidence

_**Chapter 3- Liquid Confidence**_

'_If one drink, could make tonight, slip your mind then you  
Should drink up, so you can convince yourself that I'm cute'__  
_

_He pushed me up against a wall, hands roaming up and down my body with a need that made me dizzy with want. I groaned as his lips attacked mine, revelling in their soft saltiness. He pressed up against me and I stifled a lusty moan. _

_"Daisy, you're so beautiful," he breathed into my ear._

_I groaned even harder, desperately wanting some friction. How wanton I felt. How free. _

_"Do you want me Daisy?" he said between kisses and I could only nod._

I was awakened from my daydream from a buzzing in my pocket. Using my super ninja powers, I stealthily sneaked my phone out of my pocket for a quick check. Miss didn't suspect a thing; just kept rambling on about ships and pirates and treasure or something and all I could think about was 'I ship Johnlock.' – don't judge me.

The screen flashed up. One new message. From 'Danny Flint-stone.'

As expected.

Dan and I had been texting each other non-stop for two weeks, after the whole Scott incident. We'd become so close, it was hard to know where he ended and I began (no, not in a dirty way, who do you think I am? Some sort of dirty, cheap ass hooker? I've got a little bit of class people. Only a little)

'_Omg I had a dream I was a mad scientist... A bad ass one though, like Tony Stark,' _the message read and I have to stifle a laugh as I hastily though slyly wrote my reply.

I wanted so ardently to tell him about my dreams. But I couldn't. Because they were about him and his friendship meant more to me now than a stupid attempt at pushing it further when we weren't ready for it.

Most of my dreams consisted of me and him getting our groove thing on, or a romantic date where we got our groove thing on, or we were at school in lessons and got our groove thing on. Some were sweet. Others were mannerisms close to creepiness reserved for the likes of extreme-fangirls. Some were just plain wrong.

I don't have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination.

'Hahaha, omg, Avengers is the best superhero film ever. Jeremy Renner is so badass,' I sent back before slipping my phone back into my hoodie pocket. The exercise turned out to be futile; my phone was out again within a few seconds, his replies fast and funny.

'Yeah, and Captain America's arse. Mmmm, if I wasn't straight and he was a chair…' I let out a loud snort of laughter. The historical babble that had been streaming out incessantly out of our history teacher's mouth – who I'm pretty sure pre-dates the stuff she's talking about – suddenly stopped.

"Yes, Miss Bridges?" she raised her uni-brow at me, "you find the fact that the African people got forcibly removed from their land and sold into slavery amusing?"

"Um… no? I just remembered this funny joke about pirates. Actually my friend… er… Pedro told it me when he was a pirate but that was years ago, when he lived in Somalia," I rambled on, horrified at the word vomit that I was spurting out but unable to stop myself.

The uni-brow went up again. "What is this hilarious pirate joke then?"

I stared at her, willing her to just move on and ignore what she knew was going to be a train wreck of epic proportions. But she's a stubborn mule. Looks like one too.

Now, my improvisations skills are legendary, which is why I was able to pull this off with such an air of grace, it looked planned. Plus I have an infinite range of awful/hilarious jokes in my arsenal.

"What's a horny pirate's worst nightmare?"

Miss stared at me warily.

I paused for dramatic effect before delivering the punch line.  
"A sunken chest with no booty."

The class erupted into screams of laughter – whether at my joke or my owning of the teacher – while Miss is left flailing and floundering for words like a washed up clownfish. I just smiled at her.

Abi, who was sat a little way behind, called out, laughing, "Horny pirates would be terrified of you then Miss!" which sent the class into another uproar of hysterics.

By the time the class finally settled down and the Donkey had stopped throwing me and Abi death glares, the bell had rung and I was out of there so fast even Sonic would've been out of breath. Outside the classroom, leaning against the wall was the Flint to my fire, the bridge to my river, the David Tennant to my Rose, the candy floss to… my tongue.

I grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him down the corridor before Ass-Face caught up to take me to her Dungeon of Misdemeanours. Dan laughed and I metaphorically beat down my shit-eating smile with a stick. I never got sick of it and if I could set that as my ringtone, I would. But I can't.

Because that would be creepy.

We met everyone in the canteen as the weather, as per usual in Winter-England, fluctuated more than a PMS-ing pubescent girl's moods and it was now more miserable than Josh when Arsenal lost to Birmingham in the Carling Cup final.

I let go of Dan's arm to launch myself at Josh's back. Luckily, he's known me a long time so was able to not collapse under the weight of my fine ass. I slid back down to the ground after thirty seconds of him making crude innuendos about 'back doors.'

Dan came forward and joined our little circle-oblong-rabble-thing and chatted to the boys. I was too busy staring at him to notice Josh talking to me. I turned back to him when he playfully (albeit painfully) punched me on the arm.

"Huh?" I said startled.

"If you weren't too busy staring at your lover-boy over there-" cue blush-explosion "-you would have learned that I'm having a little get-together/sleepover of doom tomorrow. You know, to celebrate… Vibe Week? Vibe Week."

Josh rarely needed an excuse to party.

"Yeah, duh, of course I'll be there. Thine party would suck royal monkey testicles if I had refused attendance sir," I bowed low and Josh laughed before picking me up by the waist and spinning me round, earning some filthy looks off of the teachers on duty.

Setting me down, he turned to Dan, "You've got to come to a Franceschi bash mate; it'll blow your peasant mind!"

Dan glanced at me and I raised my eyebrows suggestively, "Dude, you're asking me if I want to come to your house, drink your alcohol and generally fuck shit up. Stupid question. Of course I'm coming!"

I giggled internally at the word choice.

"Abi, hurry up already, we're going to be late!" I yelled up the stairs.

"You can't be late for a house party D. Besides, you can't rush perfection!" came the reply.

I rolled my eyes and continued reading the new issue of Rocksound, my leg bouncing impatiently against the floor. I'd been ready for about twenty minutes as, going to lengths of previously unrecognised organisation; I had planned what I was going to wear the night before. It was a black flowery skirt (which Abi let me borrow because she's fantasmic) that reached quite a bit above my knees – my inner middle school nun had a heart attack and collapsed – topped with my low cut white Rage Against the Machine tank. The shoes belonged to Abi also; black heels that I could only just walk in. My usually Merida-level-untameability auburn hair was pinned smoothly behind my head and Abi had done my makeup all smoky so that when I looked in the mirror I barely recognised myself. Basically I looked like a sex god. I'm not going to deny it. Nor the person I was all sex-god-upped for.

Daniel Mother-loving Flint.

I smiled to myself, as thoughts of him had done for the last 2 weeks. It's crazy how close we'd gotten in such a short space of time. And a little stupid. But I don't care. The wholesome happiness I felt when with him was too much to ignore. I hoped he liked what he saw tonight.

The elephant-parade on the stairs told me that Abi was ready. I turned and my mouth fell open. Bloody hell. She looked like a minx on acid. Heels a mile high, shorts covering up way too little, yet still too much, hair and makeup done to perfection… she looked stunning. Josh won't know what hit him.

We set off to the party, both of us as nervous as each other.

"Woah."

Josh stood in the doorway of his home, jaw slackened, eyes popping out of his head comically. Behind him, the party was in full swing.

"You gonna let us in, baby cakes? Before we die from pneumonia?" I said in response to his stare.

He stood back, giving us access, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, 'if you were wearing clothes,' but I let it slide, feeling Dan's pull more than the rage to punch Josh.

Despite the fact that it was only our group attending, the whole house was pretty much trashed. Knowing Josh, he'd rope us all into clean-up tomorrow. Abi and I dropped our bags by the back door, which is when I saw the infamous Franceschi tent. We had some good times in there – get your mind out of the gutter, children, not that sort of 'good time'. The first party we ever had with alcohol had resulted in the tent collapsing on top of us all, when a drunken Max had jumped on it, ironically screaming the lyrics to Nelly Furtado's 'Jump'; he didn't jump very high. Neither did Neil Armstrong when he was on the moon. Did Armstrong actually invent the moonwalk? Because that's quite a weird thing to do when on the moon, I mean-

Oh god, thought vomit. Even my thoughts were nervous. Great.

'Every step closer to the living room brings you closer to him.'

…

Yeah, that did nothing to calm me.

I took a deep breath outside the door to get myself together and stepped over the threshold.

He turned towards me, started, and then smiled. Damn it. Composure = gone. Rubbing my arm self-consciously for the first time in years, I looked up at him through my lashes. Even with my heels, he was a good 3 inches taller than me. He was wearing dark skinny jeans, paired with an Aztec-patterned jumper. Atop his head was, instead of the usual beanie, a backwards cap. It all just looked casually sexy.

Wolf whistles came from the rest of the boys as they caught wind of our arrival. I felt an arm drape itself along my shoulders; Josh had re-entered the room, carrying offerings of beer. I gladly took the one handed to me and swigged a bit. I grinned at the boys as they told me how much they'd pay for me if I was a hooker – their way of complimenting me.

Finally I was left facing Dan. I stepped forward and gave him a quick hug (inner fangirl) before giving him a twirl, asking how I looked. He just smiled, raised his eyebrows cheekily and took a swig of the beer in his hand.

"Run around the fucking tent, you imbeciles!" a very, very, very, very drunk Josh yelled from out in the garden. The rest of us (except Abi because she was in lurrrve with Josh) were in the living room, out of the chilly, chilly, freeze-your-willy Autumnal wind. Nobody did as he commanded. We weren't genies. Gosh, Josh. Hehe. That rhymed. I'm a poet and I didn't know it. But I'm not drunk. Ok, maybe a little bit. But not a lot. Ok, a lot. Don't judge me!

The later the night went on, the more the alcohol had loosened my tongue and my hips. I danced provocatively to the thumping music, grinding on anything and everything. All of a sudden, hands were on my waist, pulling me flush against something warm and solid I turned round and laughed when I saw it was Dan. He was so adorable.

"What was that?" he slurred.

Oh shit did I say that out loud?!

"I said, you're so cool," I garbled out, giggles escaping.

"Well, I think you're really hot," he whispered in my ear. Chills ran down my back as his fingers trailed languidly up my arm. God, he was hot.

"More like tepid, lukewarm, room temperature," I breathed back, turning to face him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

I stared into his eyes, feeling oddly sober, entranced. My eyes flickered down to his lips and back up again. A small smile upturned his lips. Why was he so gorgeous?

I was wrenched away from our little bubble by a thoroughly intoxicated Max. I laughed, covering the sound of my heart breaking (it sounded rather like a seal getting slapped in the face with its dead seal father's flipper) letting myself get pulled further and further away from Dan.

I danced with Max for a bit, aware of Dan's eyes burning into my head. I left to get another drink from the kitchen to drown away my blues. I pushed Dan to the back of my mind; not hard to do drunk really.

A few shots and bottles of beer (and perhaps a couple of glasses of wine) later, I was stood on the dining room table, singing ridiculously badly to 'Buck Rogers' by Feeder.

"… got a CD player-player-player-player!" At the chorus I started jumping around on the table, in heels, which turns out wasn't the smartest move. Who knew?

I lost my balance and stumbled, falling what felt like 1000 feet to the carpeted floor, my life flashing in double time before my melodramatically dying eyes… then suddenly I wasn't plummeting to the earth. I was wrapped up in a bundle of warmth that matched that of the alcohol I'd consumed. Looking up I saw my saviour, my guardian angel in a backwards cap, Dan. He was looking back, eyes flooded with raw passion. My eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again, heart racing like a runaway train. He leaned down.

And time went in_ slow motion._


	4. Chapter 4 - Hard to Swallow

_**Chapter 4 – Hard To Swallow**_

'_We were close but still so far, we grew apart and out of touch,_

_All I wanted was... all I wanted was to say...__**'**_

My breathing hitched. I could feel his warm breath tickling my cheek and all I could think about was how much I wanted him to kiss me, to hold me, to love me. My eyes fluttered shut. He was so close. I leant up slightly-

"Fuck you!" a loud drunken cry shattered the moment and we broke apart, "you twat, you absolute ass monkey, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

Over inner-me's cries of utter woe and unreleased sexual frustration, the blast of very creative profanities continued. Abi was stood outside, in her glorious perfection, hurling insults at Josh and shoving at his chest with all her might, before stumbling in her too-high-for-the-drunken-antics-she-was-engaging-in heels and collapsing in a flood of incessant drunken sobs into his arms. Abi was a notorious emotional drunk but even so; this was extremely bad.

I glanced towards Dan and saw him already looking, eyes burning. Oh. So I'm not the only one with built up issues. I closed my eyes and with effort turned away.

Sobriety hit me like a herd of stampeding T-Rexes when I saw the real state of Abigail Halliday, draped on Josh like a backwards cape. Josh's face was the picture of confusion mingled with a dash of what-the-foreboding-albatross-just-happened. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Girl behaviour is a notoriously complex subject. A girl could come up to you, kiss you passionately, then laugh with you, then at you, then slap you and run off crying, all without you saying a word. I mean, girls haven't even figured out girls yet.

I strode outside trying to toss (wrong word, wrong image, no stop) an idea of Dan actually wanting to be with me out of my head so I could deal with the immense problem at hand.

I peeled Abi off of Josh and she turned and clung to me muttering something about a 'pooping glass soul.' Josh thanked me silently and stood awkwardly for a few seconds before I rolled my eyes and sent him willingly inside. I patted her on the back, waiting until her sobs had subsided before my inquisition began. Behind me the party blared on obliviously.

"S-s-sorry about thi-i-s Dee," she sobbed, "we were ju-u-st talking, we-e-ell flirting and I was telling him all a-about how much I liked hi-im like the i-i-diot I am. It wa-as all romantic and then he mentioned tha-at he had a- a- a- da-ate with Poppy the prostitute next week and I-I could feel my heart just break," her voice, usually so confident, shattered. I felt a hellish rage flood my system. What did he think he was doing?!

"Well, he's just an arsehole Abs, a twattish arsehole that was obviously blinded by the all the fake tan the walking wotsit Poptart wears. Don't fret child, he will rue the day he ever decided to court a day from her. Trust me."

"You think so?" her raccoon-esque blue eyes were wide and filled with a drunken naivety.

"Mmhmm," I murmured, rubbing her back as she sniffled.

The party was over for us, I knew that. There was no way Abi could stay at Josh's after that; she was heart-broken. And what kind of best friend would I be if I abandoned her to an America's Next Top Model marathon and a feast of chocolate and Ben & Jerry's ice-cream alone.

We headed back inside where I made the apologies and farewells on behalf of us both, purposefully keeping my gaze as far from the blonde menace as possible. Josh obviously didn't think I noticed him hiding behind the curtain in fear of my wrath. Oh, he'd get what was coming to him. He can rest assured on that.

The boys followed us into the hall by the front door, their faces solemn. Feeling kind of bad – I mean, I am the party so thereby me leaving meant the party was over – I called a taxi and endured the awkward 'We've Said Our Goodbyes But We Can't Leave Yet' period until it arrived, all the while trying to keep an on-the-brink-of-another-meltdown-right-after-I-just-calmed-her-down Abi from crying – all while half-sober. What can I say; I'm talented.

From inside my bag my phone suddenly started blaring Scar's song from Lion King. Every eye turned towards me inquisitively; no words were needed to comprehend what they wanted to know. I smiled sarcastically.

Turning away from them and pulling out my phone without checking the number I spoke.

"Howdy-doo Daisy's phone, Daisy speaking," I said.

"Hey Dee, baby," the voice from hell replied.

My eyes widened and I froze for only a second before smashing the end call button and tossing my phone back into my bag like it was some sort of poisonous snake. I clenched my fists to stop my hands from trembling. I hastily shoved as many happy thoughts as possible into my head so when I turned back around the guys would think nothing was wrong. They didn't need to worry about any of my shit. 'Puppies, a mountain of chocolate, a sea of skittles, free wifi.'

I swivelled around and smiled what I thought was convincingly.

"Who was that D-meister?" asked Matt curiously.

"Oh," I replied, laughing shakily and waving my hand in a dismissive gesture, "just a 0800 number."

Everyone shrugged and went along with it – I suspect the alcohol helped a lot to blind them from my obvious lie. Except Dan; he frowned at me as if trying to work something out. I quickly averted my eyes.

In the taxi ride home, I faced the horror that had just occurred.

Scott had my number again_._

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it's so short, it's more of a filler chapter if I'm honest**


	5. Chapter 5 - Sweet Feet

_**Chapter 5 – Sweet Feet**_

'_You're never gonna let this go with every little look she gave_

_and every move she made, she's got you on the tip of your toes.'_

Usually when my phone rings, I dance internally to thoughts of immense popularity – despite my meagre contact list. Usually a mini fiesta sounds in my head with many maracas_ and _cries of 'ARRRRRRRRIBAAAAAA!' and 'Ayiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi!' would take to the sky as Spanish people in garishly bright colours surround me as I answer the phone.

But now; now when my tech-brick jiggles I panic the fuck out – I'm fairly sure I resemble a startled deer on crack. Most of the time I just stare at it warily like it's a rabid dog until it rings out. Others though I have picked up. It's basically me picking up the phone screaming, "Leave me alone you twat-face!" and hanging up, feeling relieved for about 3 seconds before it starts ringing again.

How Scott even got my number is beside me.

It's gotten to the point where I have to turn off my phone in school to avoid his texts – and by turning off my phone I also avoid Dan's texts which really pisses me off.

Our closeness remained close even after the whole party mishap (which is never, ever, _ever_ mentioned at all, except perhaps in a few wanton glances we send each other's way.)

Even the crew have begun to pick up on the tenseness of my shoulders and the worry lines that grow ever more prominent with every text and missed call from the bane of my existence. More than once have I had to dodge the 'are you ok?' questions.

So as I sit in a bubble of perpetual worry in the perpetual dullness of history my mind considers what I can do: a) keep doing what I'm doing and kill myself due to stress b) inform my friends and hope that we can pool resources and figure something out – which will end with them hating me when they find out what I've kept hidden all these years or c) I confront my bastard ex to see what he wants and make a deal with the devil.

Although 'C' appealed to me less than gang raping Justin Bieber's corpse, it was becoming more and more the best course of action.

As I contemplated the horror of that, a paper ball hit the back of my head. Disgruntled, I turned to see Abi's grinning visage a few rows back, mouthing for me to pick up the mash of dead tree. I did so and unravelled her page long note:

_What have we come to?! Going old school in order to talk in class, this is the 21__st__ century. TURN ON YOUR GODDAMN PHONE WOMAN! Anyway, what happened to helping me with Osh-Jay Ranceschi-Fay? (Code in case this is intercepted by Hawkeye Houghton)You've been so distant lately, what's up? Is it Dan? Have you been rejected? Oh, of course you haven't… you'd be playing possum in bed right now if you had. Oops, word vomiting. What are we going to do about my stupid-excuse-for-a-man crush? I trust we're going to sabotage the date; it's tomorrow in case you forgot. I do have a few ideas but I am in need of an accomplice/mastermind. Please. I'll help you with Dan?! Lots of jubilant love from the back of the classroom; P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney. xxxxxxxxx_

I smiled my first real smile in two weeks.

I'd been so completely lost in my own troubles that I forgot about Abi's. Josh was still going out with Poppy and I still didn't understand why he was being such an obtuse fool by not acting on his feelings for the Abster. Tucking the note safely into the pocket of my hoodie, I soundlessly ripped out a piece of paper from the notebook on the desk (don't ask how it was soundless, I have many skills – besides, Miss is as good as deaf.)

Quickly, I scrawled my reply, apologising and informing her of what was going to occur tomorrow – and also accepting her help with Dan. I crumpled it up and threw it behind me without looking, hoping against hope that it would actually land directly on Abi's table.

Judging from the muffled yelp that reverberated behind me, I'm not that talented, unfortunately.

"Are you nearly done Dais? We need to get going," Abi asked anxiously as I stood back to survey my masterpiece; using an eye liner pencil, I had drawn two thick black strips on both cheeks to go with the camouflage gear we'd both donned.

"Done! Now do you know the plan?" I pointed at the elaborate whiteboard setup in the corner decorated with string and coloured pins.

"We've been over it like a thousand times, of course I know the plan," she replied snarkily. I put it down to the anxiety of what we were about to undertake.

"Just making sure. Everything needs to go smoothly," I held my hands up in surrender to her tone.

"Do we have to wear camouflage? I feel like a dick," she whined.

"Yes. This is a once in a life time opportunity to actually wear camouflage for what it's intended for. Don't spoil this for me," I answered.

Using my super sleuthing Sherlock abilities (i.e. I asked Dan to ask Josh) I'd determined where/what Joshua was planning for his date. He was taking her to the cinema and then treating her to a Nando's after. With this information, I had then concocted a brilliant plan to intervene and make sure preppy Poppy was never going to forget this date any time soon.

It turns out camouflage gear doesn't actually camouflage you into civilian surroundings. It does in fact make you look like a walking, talking, albeit very large dick. It also makes you, ironically, stand out more, forcing Abi and I to hide in the nasty toilets of the cinema after we'd bought our tickets to a film; we could just sneak into the right one, we just had to get past the guards. One of us had to stick our head out periodically to check for our man friend and his date.

Suddenly, the bathroom doors opened and we automatically leapt into the two cubicles. It felt like the right thing to do in a tense dramatic moment like that. We were born for spy-hood.

I pressed my ear against the door, praying that this intruder didn't actually need to do any sort of business.

"Yeah, I'm in the toilet."

The nasally, uptight, chavy, annoyingly high pitched voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Poppy the Prostitute, the one whose mental psyche we were about to permanently scar, had walked into our HQ.

I held my breath and listened as she continued to speak into her phone.

"Ew, no I'm not a slag mate!" she screeched down the line, making me wince.

'_Yes you are, __**mate**__.' _

There was a pause before she spoke again, "Well he is buying me Nando's, so I probably will by the end of the night."

I gagged. She was going to do what to Josh?! In the next cubicle I could almost hear Abi's wretches.

'_Ewewewewewewew, the walking STD wants a slice of Joshpie.'_

"We're going to see that Shakespeare film – the one with guns and stuff – he's such a bloke but apparently it's a romance so I dunno. What if he's gay?"

'_Oh god, she's on about Romeo + Juliet. I'm losing IQ points just listening to this conversation.'_

"I'll let you know what happens and if I end up blowing him, mwah," she blows air-kisses down the phone and we hear the door swing. Both of us let out a simultaneous breath before opening the cubicles and nodding grimly at each other. This is now not only for Abi, but for the good of Josh. He didn't want to shag that.

Now we knew which film they were going to watch, we initiated the first stage of my plan. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a pot of hot chilli powder.

Let the fun begin.

Abi and I were in hysterics on the bus home.

"Did you – did you see the look on her face!?" I laughed so hard that tears swam behind my eyes.

"Oh god, I can't believe she actually fell for that though!" Abi snorted loudly, attracting several shocked glances from various other Nightbus-ers.

The mission turned out to be a lot more successful than I'd originally planned. The things I hadn't anticipated were Poppy's extremely hilarious reactions to our antics. The rest of the ride was spent with us reliving the highlights and basically spilling our lungs onto the cheap leather seats of the bus.

That was, until we got off at our stop.

Standing there was an extremely disgruntled Josh Franceschi.

Who proceeded to tell us all about how his date had slapped him round the face after a series of mishaps involving spiked popcorn, flying bubble gum, cat fur (of which Poppy is violently allergic and breaks out into epic sneezing fits), a very clumsy waiter and a dinner 'mix up.' During his retelling of events that we already knew, I worked to keep my features innocent, reacting as genuine as possible.

As he concluded his story, he turned to me and said, "Why did you do it?"

Damn.

"I'm not mad, well… I am. But only because I got slapped – that girl can bloody hit! But that's beside the point. You had something to do with it. The waiter complained of a couple of girls in camouflage lurking near the kitchens and – no, you can't deny it, you're wearing camouflage now – I know you D. Everything reeked of your hare-brained schemes. Just – why?"

I opened my mouth to reply but Abi jumped in before me.

"Because she was trying to help me. I was the one that wanted to sabotage your time tonight with Popstitu– er, Poppy and I roped Daisy into it. It wasn't her. Well, some of the ideas were hers; I'm not that creative- OW!"

I'd punched her to plug in the rambling before she said anything she'd regret. Josh looked perplexedly between the two of us before addressing Ab.

"But why?"

"Because I LOVE YOU!"

Silence fell.

More silence.

A dollop more silence.

"Really?" Josh breathed, wide eyed.

Abi bit her lip and nodded, casting her eyes to the floor. I was startlingly aware that he hadn't said it back.

He moved closer to her, hooking his fingers through the belts of her dark jeans, pulling her the rest of the way until she was flush against him.

"Why didn't you say so before?" he murmured to her, and I averted my eyes. It was their moment and I oddly felt like I was intruding. Josh and Abi stood like that for a while, whispering sweet nothings and hugging whilst I was significantly third wheeled – at a bus stop. Classy.

Josh then asked her out for coffee, right then and right there. It's 11 at night; it's a bit late for spontaneous dates. But Abi, of course accepted, and they left me there to walk home alone.

My friends clearly want me to be mugged by a rapid 12 year old youth.

Shoving my hands into my pockets and grumbling about possibly replacing my friends with some mail order Pilipino people, I began the journey home. It was a brisk walk as the February air wasn't really leggings and thin shirt weather.

Another surprise met me at the door.

And not a nice one.

Scott leant in the doorway to my house.

Shit.


End file.
